IT’S TOUGH TO BE A BOY

teen

 

Pimple-faced, lanky,  awkward, nearly mute around a girl, this fourteen year old male adores the fourteen year old girl next door.  She is taller than he is; she has more friends, she is built…  Well, she is built well.  She is nice to him; he vacillates between bliss and despair based on whether or not she smiles at him.  He tries to get his beard to grow and learn to say “hi” without squeaking.  Finally he gives up, goes to his room, and cries his heart out with a pillow muting his sorrow.

He learns to cope.  Decides driving a car will be his day – the day he will ask her out.  He bravely turns his mind to study and his body to exercise.  Mom and Dad are rightfully proud of him; they are understanding go-to parents, and he appreciates their approval.

Finally, sixteen.  This is the year!  School dance on Friday night.  He does it!

“You wouldn’t want to go to the dance with me, would you?”  Hallelujah, he didn’t squeak.

“Oh,” she responded, “I have a regular boyfriend who I will be going with.”

He goes to dad for advice.  Dad said, “Faint heart ne’er won fair maiden.”

So he tries again, but she said she is going to spend the night with a friend.

Again.  “Will you go to church with me next week?”  She wouldn’t because she couldn’t miss her own church.

The years roll by.   He can’t forget his early crush.  They are no longer neighbors.  He seldom sees her.  She has changed but she is still a beauty.  “Go for it,” he tells himself.  So he goes to her workplace, and asks her out.  She tells him to get lost and quit harassing her.

My young hero does eventually find a girl who appreciates him for his study, exercise,  respect for his parents, honor for God.  And he grows such a nice beard and has a charming husky voice, a couple of qualities his wife adores.

************

Fortunately for the world and the continued population of the earth, most young men do turn out like my hero.

But what else might my young man have done?  1. He might have turned on the bluster; who cares anyway.  Poor grades, rude to parents, dangerous driving, drink, drugs.  2.  He might have isolated himself, became depressed, ate twinkies and potato chips, drank sodas, and gained enough weight to apply for government disability checks.  3.  He might have turned to social media, played video games, checked out some porn, decided his life just had no hope, committed suicide.  4. He might have sought help from the school counselor –  one who suggested that he might be homosexual.  Wow, that’s a deal.  Don’t have to ask a girl out again.  Just make friends in the gym showers.

***************

I’m glad I wasn’t a boy!

 

 

Posted in culture, falling in love, gender roles, men, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

LISTEN UP, LADIES

whistle

Listen up, Ladies.  Many of you I am mad at!  I have been where most of you are in age and maturity.  But I have been in one place most of you are not, and I am so sorry for you.  Individually you may be innocent, but the culture in which you live, is NOT.  I had an advantage of living in a culture that was innocent.  You know the culture I am referring to.  Many of you mock it – the 50’s when Father Knows Best respected fathers, I Love Lucy was funny without sex and body functions, Leave it to Beaver had a mother at home, Wagon Train where men protected the ladies.  We no longer reap what was sown in those years.

This rage of mine today finally tipped over from the headline indicating  students and faculty at Tennessee State University can no long “whistle in a suggestive manner” without danger of being fired, fined, or dismissed.  Say what!

Women, where have you been every night there has been a one night stand?  Where have you been when a couple has “shacked up?”  Where have you been while the law has made it possible for you to legally killed your baby because you were willingly participating in the act that caused that baby?  Where have you been when movie makers made a fortune on filth?

For every one night stand there has been a girl involved.  Every time a couple “shack up” there is a girl involved.  Don’t good all “naive” on me.  Your acceptance of pre-marital sex has become so dominate, the very innocent recognition of a male noticing you, you interpret as an aggression – a harassment, a threat.   In too many cases, accepting a dinner invitation has equaled an overnight stay in the motel room.  How far is that from the norm?  I don’t know but I do know from reading “singles” blogs it is viewed widely as expected.

I’ve been whistled at – a wolf whistle – it is called.  Sometimes it might have made me uncomfortable, but at the same time I was glad to be noticed!  It was not an invitation for a romp in the bed; it was not a “warning” that I might be raped.

From 50 to 80 % of women spend $43 on a shopping trip for make-up, totaling up to about $15,000 for make-up in a lifetime.  And you don’t want to be noticed!?

Schools teach children how to “protective” sex measures because of their “raging hormones” but you are aghast at a guy’s raging hormones at a drinking party!  I am told if I don’t like filthy movies, stay away.  I pass that on to you ladies, if you don’t like what happens when you are loopy drunk, stay away from the loopy drunk stage.

So some time a guy waits for you to get off work in order to walk you home.  Well that has happened to me also.  It didn’t mean we hopped into bed when we got there.  It meant he might ask me out for a movie sometime.  (My bad luck, since I didn’t go to movies.)

I was in a car driving main with about five guys one time; I got there because of a male cousin.  What!?  The most sexual thing they did was take a sharp right turn fast enough to laugh at the fact that I leaned against the driver.  Yep, they laughed at me.  Dare one of them run for political office now!  What a story!

I was also walking to church early one Sunday morning when a guy circled me a few times by driving around the block.  After a while he invited me to get in.  No way!  I had sense enough to know something that was NOT innocent.

So everything was not innocent.  No – but overall the culture was one of innocence.  Breaking those mores was as much the fault of women as it was of men.  We want to be equal?  We want control?  Then take some responsibility for the garbage that masquerades itself as normal in this age of progressive enlightenment.   Stop playing the victim!  Stop lying!  (Oops even if you lasted this long, I lost you then. I’ll be back with that charge.)  “You felt threatened thirty years ago, but could only swallow your trauma until just in “the nick of time” to make you trauma public.

I’m not through but I’m quitting.  I will be back for some further sage advice later.

 

Posted in culture, feminist, sexual practices, sexual situations, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

RUDOLPH RAMBLES

“Psst! Psst!  Listen, right here by your left shoulder.”

“Me?  You talking to me?”

“Of course.  You don’t see anybody else listening to a stuffed reindeer, do you? Wow, do I have a story to tell ‘bout things going on in here.  In the first place, I came in with 119 other Rudolphs.  That’s right. Ten dozen.  What the people don’t know – even the guy who ordered me – is that I am the only authentic Rudolph in this bunch of stuffed clones.  Yep, me.  The real reindeer baby, born of Santa’s Rudolph and his forever love, Ms. Vixen.  Can’t you see by the shiny red nose?  Cupid set the whole thing up.  He thought the shiny satin bow Vixen wore went so well with dad’s, I mean Rudolph’s,  nose they were bound to find true love.  Anyway that’s how I came to be.

“Santa entered me into a modeling career at Reign-dear, Unlimited – I like that name, don’t you?  By mistake I was picked up and dropped into the crate for shipping.  Everybody here thinks I’m stuffed; I’m not, in fact I’m kinda hungry.  Do you happen to have a wad of hay that I could ruminate on a while? That’s okay.  I can’t talk with my mouth full anyway.

“Harry, the guy over there putting up the Christmas bells, stacked us all here in the aisle – put me right here in front so someone could get me first, but a slouchy, unkempt looking guy walked by and sneezed.  Would you believe?  He had chewing tobacco in his mouth.  Spayed all over my back left rump.  Can you see it?  Well, as of now, 47 people have looked me over then they bought one of the  imitations stacked around me.  I’m still here.  But it’s a perfect place to see the Christmas shoppers and gives me lots to reminisce about.

“A little while ago, two women were waiting in line.  They were speculating, extrapolating, and expounding on the hypothesis  of why everyone else was so dim-witted as to wait for today to do their shopping. One of the women – Helen by name – had been here three and a half hours.  Her big problem was what to get for her boss.  He seems to be a big whing-ding.  Don’t know how she thought she could find something here for that sort  But she had to give him something at the Christmas party he was throwing for his employees.  She finally made a decision on a tie with a picture of Rudolph, my dad, on it.  While she was in line a man unloaded a tie from the basket in front of them.  He held it up and looked it over.

“The second woman, I think her name was Delectica (or something like that)  said quiet-like so the man couldn’t hear, ‘Look at that ugly tie!’

“Helen’s face fell as deflated as a happy helium balloon on its first month’s birthday.  Three and a half hours for an ugly tie choice!

“You should have seen her sneak that tie out of the basket and stuff it into the changed-my-mind, I-don’t-want-it basket.  Yeah, they have one of those up here by the checkout counter.

“Delectica, (whatever her name is) caught Helen dumping it.  She said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know you had one.’ Helen said, ‘I don’t know how it got in my basket.  It’s so ugly; I would never have chosen that.  Someone else must have dumped it in my basket.  Well, toodle-do, nice talking to you.  I must run down to Rothchild’s and buy something for my boss.’

“And the tie?  It really was ugly.  Looked exactly like me and dad.  I wish I had taken my looks from my mom.  Vixen is quite a lovely lady.  Meanwhile here I stand, with tobacco spray on my rump.  Not to worry, though, some woman will buy me when all the rest are gone – when she remembers that she hasn’t yet bought anything for her husband’s cousin’s kid.

’Two good things about that.  One, I won’t have to spend much time in a wrapped boot box.  The other is, kids are very easy to talk to and they talk back like real live people.  They don’t stand gaping like you are doing.  You look like you’re hearing something weird.  Buck up, man, it’s your turn to check out.  If you have to buy any ties, I would recommend one with a snowflake, shining star, or Christmas tree.  Well, as Helen said, ‘toodle-do, nice talking to you.’ “

******************

I like this story so I’m posting again from a couple of years ago.  Not many of you read it before.  If you did, enjoy again (I hope).    It was written for a challenge by Dan Alatorre.  I’m not finding his blog now.

CHRISTMAS FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE issued by Dan Alatorre at http://danalatorre.com/2015/12/04/writing-challenge-see-the-scene-write-the-caption/comment-page-1/#comment-4174  The challenge is to write a story including two random elements.  My first scene (5) is to involve”two shoppers lined up at a cash register while a man holds up and examines a necktie.”  And the second is to use the keyword “Rudolph” (2).

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AWAITING CHRISTMAS

crystal bell

Crystal bells, wreath on door,

Crunch of crumbs on the floor;

Crazy crowds wanting more,

Credit woes, men tremble;

Crowns seen, precious symbol.

Crude critics complain, but

Christ has not come in vain.

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‘TIS THE SEASON

donuts and coffee

‘Tis the season to be jolly

Drop donut crumbs and spill the coffee!

“Alas, alas,” the new carpet cried,

“Somebody do something,”  –  So the church board tried.

 

Got out their pens and with much chagrin

Wrote Fifteen Rules for All to Heed”

But, alas, again!

The people in that congregation

Could not, would not, did not read.

 

Well, the pastor made a recommendation

Call the King James Council of Arbitration.

After much negotiation, with relief and much elation.

 

They passed the following decree

And posted it for all to see.

 

“Thou shalt carry thy coffee in steady cup,

Lo! Thou shalt balance it carefully to keep it up.

And, thou shalt not tread on thy gooey bread.”

 

“Give it to us in NIV,” responded the Refreshment Committee.

 

Still the problem had not been solved.

Who should be involved?  What should be resolved?

 

“What shall we do about dropping crumbs,

Slopping coffee, and sticky goo?”

 

So the problem was given to the Common Sense Board

And, all together, in one accord,

They put on their thinking hats,

Submitted one rule.  “DON’T DO THAT!”

***********

If you have a feeling of having read this before, maybe you did.  Likely you do not remember it from Dec. ’15.  It appears that about half my readers from that time are not with me now.  And I do have new readers.  I am curious about who is still out there from 2015. So if your reading, please give me a like – even if you didn’t!  😀

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MEDICAL INGENUITY

pacemaker

 

Heart rate smooth and strong.

Pacemaker doing its job;

Steady sixty beats.

Thanking the Lord for the ingenuity of man when man uses it for the benefit of mankind – more specifically, for me.  😀  I’m just sitting here ticking away, blood flowing, doing what it supposed to with a little help from St. Jude and amazing doctors, and “wisdom”       King James Version
“I wisdom dwell with prudence, and find out knowledge of witty inventions.” (8:12 Prov.)

On a sober note:  I’ve hardly had any readers.  I miss you.  It probably has something to do with the fact that I haven’t posted.  Seems like “no writing” equals “no readers.”  DUH.  Here’ smiling at you, but I’m probably still going to be absent a while.  😀

Image from Pixabay

https://ronovanwrites.com/2017/11/27/ronovanwrites-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-177-strongheart/

Posted in God, medical marvels, Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge, Uncategorized, wisdom | Tagged , , , | 34 Comments

BEING GRATEFUL

thanks

Too busy to write,

Too busy to read.

Just taking a look

Here and there.

Grabbing bites;

Settling fights.

Who is right?

Late into night.

Playing old games;

Learning new names.

Meeting new folks;

Telling old jokes.

“Come on in, you all;

My, you’re getting tall.”

Pot’s boiling;

Mama’s toiling.

Thanksgiving sounds,

Gaining pounds.

For all these things, Lord,

I’m ever so grateful.

I’LL SEE YOU ALL NEXT WEEK

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

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YOU GET WHAT YOU’RE WORTH. . . GENERALLY

“When you do more than you get paid for eventually you’ll be paid for more than you do.”- Zig Ziglar.

(A re-blog from two years ago.) 

I am against a minimum wage; I know that sounds harsh but . . . hear me out, please.

In my part of the country, one can generally hire high school boys for yard word for $8.00 an hour.  Joe came to our door looking for work.  We liked his appearance and demeanor so we told him to come back on Saturday to roto-til the garden and clean it up for winter.  Saturday morning he appeared at a reasonable hour ready to work but Sammy wasn’t ready to go out.  We told Joe to go on out and rake between the beds.

Looking out a bit later, we saw that Joe was standing with the rake apparently confused about what to do.  We watched a bit.  I said give him some time he would surely not choose to stand very long.  After a while, Sammy went out started the rototiller and Joe took over.  It was hard work.  I checked a few minutes later.  Joe was back at the rake, even raking a little.  Sammy came inside.  We looked out.  Joe was standing with the rake.

I told Sammy that I had not made an agreement with him about the pay, so if Sammy went out to keep him accountable, maybe he would be worth $8.00.  Sammy went out and gave him a new assignment, raking acorns from under a tree.  I looked out, Sammy was roto-tilling, Joe was holding the rake over his head.  I did that three times, once the rake was over his head, once he was picking a few individual leaves off the rake, once he half-heartedly drew the rack back and forth a few times.

I went out, called Joe to me and told him that he was welcome to change his mind and go home if he didn’t want to work.  He said he wanted to work but he didn’t have any break time.  I told him that was true, but he was taking them.  He said he was thirsty and hungry; I told him I would be glad to give him something to drink but I wasn’t going to cook.  He could go home to eat if he wanted to.  He repeated that he wanted to work.  I said, “Go for it then, but I don’t want to look out and see my 86-year-old husband working and you not doing anything.”  Joe said, “He’s eighty-six!?”  I told him yes, we were a generation of people who worked hard and I expected the same from anyone who worked for us.

For the next three or four hours, he worked diligently with Sammy. When they decided to take a break, Sammy told me in Joe’s hearing that he thought Joe was worth ten dollars an hour.  Joe came back after a while and worked for a couple more hours.  When he quit, he was apparently very pleased with his sixty-five dollars for the day.

Now my argument about minimum wage.  If we had agreed with Joe for ten dollars an hour, I think I would have told him after about the third time to see him doing nothing, that I didn’t need him any more. If I kept him a few hours then paid him ten dollars an hour, he would not have had to satisfaction of knowing we were paying him more than we had to.  If minimum wage had been fifteen, we would not have had him in the first place.  The job was not that critical, and I will not pay that for someone whose work I do not know about.

However, I do have a lady who comes to help me with yard work on occasion.  I pay her fourteen to seventeen an hour because she is so capable, knowledgeable, and trustworthy.  She is welcome to work here whether or not I am home.  I prefer her work to anyone else, but I’m hindered because of the my shortage of money sometimes and her shortage of time since she has other jobs.

As for me . . .  I would much prefer the lady for sixteen dollars an hour than two Joe’s at eight dollars an hour.  I just hope she can get a job sometime with someone who can pay her what she is worth!  But a ten dollar, or twelve, or fifteen minimum wage law will not help her . . . or Joe.  Our state is among the lowest for rent, groceries, gas, etc.  But no one can live on $400-600 dollars a week without two workers in the family or help from some other source.  So the argument that we need $10-15 minimum is bogus.  Leave the workers to prove their worth; good employers will be looking for them.

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THE BODY – AU NATUREL

thin to fat

 

Tall, thin shape today

Sexy look will go away.

Short? Stout? Here to stay.

*****************

Image from Pixabay

https://ronovanwrites.com/2017/11/13/ronovanwrites-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-175-shortsexy/

Posted in haiku, resurrection, Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

PRIDE TAKES A TUMBLE

 I am remembering the Limerick Challenge which was hosted by Rashmi.  I am reprinting one because it was so much fun and it is so appropriate for me today.  Does anyone know of someone else who is hosting limerick challenges or prompts?  I’d like to get in on it if so.

PRIDE TAKES A TUMBLE

 That dude had so much pride

He tossed all his clothing aside,

But to his chagrin

The laughter begin

He  quickly re-covered his hide!

Dear Blogging Friends, I guess the Lord is bringing something to my attention that I don’t really know how to handle except to stop.  It seems more than coincidence that I am just now wising up to the fact that I have been using pictures illegally.  I googled “free images” and really believed they were free, so I’ve used them.

Pixabay is not working today for some reason. I tried to find other sources for “a naked man in a barrel” and I see that I should have been paying for a license or something before they are really free.

I tried to do that this morning but it is all confusing to me, so I took a picture of piled clothing with my camera but I can’t send to e-mail.  The Lord must be pruning me!

So this delightful little limerick has no picture.  I am smarter, but I don’t know how to make it right.  So as I say, I just stop.  No more pictures until I can find out what to do about it.

************

My desperate attempt to get a picture.  I scanned my camera!  Well – – Can you see that pile of clothes?  But it won’t e-mail to me!   Alas, alas!  😀

discarded clothes

 

 

 

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